


Our New Life

by gradysdearing



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: DOMESTIC CLAWEN, F/M, i don't know what this is apart from pure fluff, non dinosaur related its literally domestic clawen, pancakes also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 10:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15241560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gradysdearing/pseuds/gradysdearing
Summary: Owen teaches Claire how to make pancakes for Maisie... sadly she isn't the best of cooks.(An insight into the Dearing-Grady household with lots of fluff and silly couple bickering!)





	Our New Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is so random and fluffy and not how I usually write so pls don't hate me but I thought we could have a little insight into domestic clawen's new family life! This one is for you Niamh, thank you for the prompt my gal. Also, to all my clawen heartache girls ILY
> 
> I'm really really nervous about posting this, I haven't posted any fanfic in years but hopefully i'll get used to it and be able to post some more if y'all would like it!

“Hey, what are you doing?” Owen’s gruff morning voice croaked as he barely lifted his head from the pillow, his eyes softly blinking out of their slumber. He felt the emptiness beside him, his arm previously encased around Claire’s sleeping body… well he had assumed it had been throughout the night, until the shift in movement jolted him awake.

It turned out Claire, golden waves tousled around her features, sat up against the headboard with her lips pursed in concentration, eyes eagerly scanning whatever page she was reading on her phone. He couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk; what a dream to wake up to this intricate, special woman that would only have ever been a mere dream of his, not even a few years ago. Now he got to smile at her cute features of focus every single day. And it couldn’t make him happier.

“Come back to bed Claire!” Owen whined, hand reaching up to flick against an auburn curl. He sat up on his elbows, peering over her arm to see what was apparently so important. “Pancakes?” he spat out a laugh.

The death glare and shove of his head shut him up quickly. She frowned and he quickly chucked at her childlike retraction from him, reaching back out for her hand. “Sorry, why are you looking at pancakes? You don’t cook”.

Claire shrugged, her bright orbs allowing him to easily read the air of uncertainty she must be feeling. “Well… I thought I could try”, he watched her, waiting expectantly for more and she let out a soft sigh, accepting his eager hand into her own. “I want to do something nice for Mais, something different and from me… you’re so good with her and I just- I just end up being the boring, strict one”.

He squeezed her hand gently, sitting himself up to rest against the headboard beside her, allowing himself to drop a ghost of a kiss to her collarbone. “You’re not boring Claire. That little girl thinks nothing less than the world of you. Yeah, I may be a bit of a goof around her but I’m not good at giving the hugs and kisses, holding her after a nightmare or getting her to open up about her past. You literally ace that stuff, ok?”

He didn’t fail to notice the small smile she made to herself, a small flutter in his own heart did not go unnoticed either. Claire scrolled down the page on her phone, losing herself in it once again then grunting momentarily. “They’re just… these instructions make no damn sense!”

And he chuckled again at this wonder of a woman. Of course, Owen had waited for her to admit defeat, expected her to as he knew that cooking had never been her forte - he’d never forget the days of walking into her apartment with takeaway chinese boxes piled up on the side and cardboard coffee cups littering the sink. “Do you have the takeout place on speed-dial or something?” he’d asked her. That night he’d made her the first home cooked meal she’d had since Karen had invited her over for Thanksgiving, and thus their unspoken agreement that Owen cooked for the two of them was born.

Bringing himself back to reality, Owen quickly grabbed the phone out of the redhead’s hand and placed it on his bedside table. “Hey Owe-!”

He shook his head, a finger delicately silencing her with a touch to the lips. “You don’t need these stupid, fancy recipes off some forum or something when you have me”, he informed her proudly. Her lips let out a soft chuckle against his finger, her head shaking in amusement. She was unprepared to be suddenly yanked from under the covers after Owen had clambered over her like a child. Ignoring her protest, he coaxed her out of the sheets, grabbing one of his oversized hoodies and chucking it into her arms to cover the lack of clothes she wore over her bra. “The pancakes will not make themselves Ms. Dearing, and with you laying in bed still at 8.08am… 8am! No...hang on, with you waking me up at 8am you are not allowed to watch me do all the work!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at her fool of a man. Doing as she was told, the jumper now sitting on her thighs, the couple moved through the white-walled hallway of their cabin that Owen had finally finished. The creamy carpet felt luscious under her feet as the glow of morning sunlight struck the red of her hair from the vast windows of the living room they crossed through, feeling herself smile as she held onto her insane yet dreamy man.

“Doesn’t seem like Mais is up” Owen whispered when he halted in their kitchen, modern and open-planned like Claire had dreamt of.

“I’ll check on her soon, it might be nice to surprise her?”

She looked dumbfounded when the former raptor trainer suppressed a scoff from his mouth. “She’ll be surprised enough to see you’ve even stepped foot in the kitchen” Owen smirked at her, earning a scowl and very defensive flick of her hair. Had she been the other side of the breakfast bar, he knew he would have earnt a kick in the shin. “Anyway Honey, time to teach you how to not blow up the kitchen, come on,” he beckoned her round to join himself.

Taking a seat around the bar, she watched intently as Owen moved smoothly from drawer to drawer, juggling a spatula with a mug and a measuring jug daringly. “Where did you learn how to make pancakes then, Mr. Grady?”

Setting the ingredients out on the black, marbled surface in a distinctly Owen way of being organised, he let out a breath that neither knew he’d been holding. “My Ma… that woman used to make the best pancakes on the planet, bless her soul. With homemade jam from the farm, every Friday morning before catching the school bus. Kept my brother’s and I in check, having something to motivate us through the week”.

She was no stranger to the ghost of a smile that flickered for a second, his eyes in a remembering daze. With his mother gone, and his two brothers having not spoken to him since he’d joined the Navy, Claire understood that the topic of his family was always a sore subject. But it only gave her more reason, passion and confirmation to continue improving their own little unit of three - ensuring each of them received the stability they’d all lacked in someway through their past. .

With a tentative finger reaching for his chin, Claire moved his face closer to her own from the stool she sat on, lips moving naturally against his own, telling him all the words she could not get out verbally. That she wanted to comfort him, cherish him, understand him and always love him. He smiled against her lips as she whispered, “teach me what to do first then”, directing the conversation away from the sensitive topic.

“Forget your fancy food blogs, to make the best pancakes you just need these three ingredients, ok?” And she nodded, watching him intently as his pearl orbs danced across the room. She’d never have chosen it for herself, but basking in the glow of the early morning light in her quiet, new home, watching the man she felt far too much for, standing in front of her cooking food for their little girl. It felt good. It felt right.

As he instructed her to whisk the mixture in a bowl, Claire found herself distracted from doing a decent job as she watched the man turn on the gas, beginning to sing softly to himself. She always got lost in his voice. Sweet, soulful, Owen. Perfect.

“Lemon? Sugar? Chocolate?”

“Hu-... What?” She was suddenly snapped out of her daze; the red burning of her cheeks rushing to her senses. “Sorry”.

He smirked, his lip quirking up in her direction at her absent-mindedness. “Toppings, honey. What do you think she will like?”

“Why do you keep calling me that name, Owen? We’re not a married couple of forty years on holiday in Europe”. She chastised; Claire would never admit to the nervous flutters of her stomach every time she heard him use it, however.

Claire didn’t miss the small smile that traced Owen’s lips as he started slicing a lemon. “If were going to try this whole family thing out, especially when we are making pancakes, I get to call you it”, he stated, no room for argument clear. “Now what do you think she’ll like?”

Claire snapped her head up from the chocolate she broke up into a dish. “Who?”

“Maisie!” He laughed, watching the familiar rouge flood back into her features.

A hand flew up to her mouth, “I swear I didn’t forget...you just distracted-... I swear! Oh god, I’m going to be a terrible mom”.

Owen stopped chopping the lemon, moving himself the few steps closer to her seat on the breakfast bar. With a sympathetic smile rested on his lips, a hand curled through the red wisps that shaped the outline of her face. “You’re not going to be a terrible anything, Claire. You’re already a better mom than Maisie could ever wish for… just pay less attention to me next time,” he finished with a wink.

“You can’t stay serious for two seconds can you?” She scowled, her hand rested on his chest, forcing him away from her, jokingly. He feigned hurt before carrying over little pots of toppings and passing her knives and forks to place onto the bar, sneaking in a soft kiss against the back of her auburn waves. “You going to teach me how to actually cook one of these stupid things then?”

“Only if you don’t call it stupid.” He moved past her again, feeling a perfectly timed, light kick to his shin in protest. Smirking, he got out a frying pan from one of the polished wooden cabinets and placed it on their range cooker. “Come on over here, I’ll show you how to make one. Then you and Maisie can make the rest together”.

A look of uncertainty appeared on Claire’s face, eyebrows furrowing as she thought about it. “I like our kitchen the way it is… I don’t think you’d appreciate it  if I caught fire to your cabin”.

As she tentatively got up from the stool and crossed the floor to join him beside the stove, his finger lightly tapped her nose. “Our cabin” he whispered, warmth quickly filling her heart.

She nodded, “Ok, our cabin” she replied equally as quietly. Her soft grin hidden as he focused on turning on the gas.

She watched intently as the butter sizzled and he poured an estimated amount of mixture into the pan, humming to himself as he adjusted the temperature. Whilst she got lost in his soft tune, he instinctively placed an arm around her lower back, the soft material of the black jumper feeling comforting. Occasionally, Owen would ensure the mixture wasn’t sticking to the pan with a spatula and with each new movement, Claire would lay her head back into the perfect crook of his neck.

“You wanna flip?”

She blinked her eyes, brought to her senses from his abrupt voice. “Sorry, what?”

“Flip. The pancake… Claire, have you ever even seen a pancake get made?”

He felt her shake her head against his shoulder, causing a chuckle to escape his breath. “Ok...well if we have a kid now, you have to know how to cook a pancake. Including flipping. I’m not doing all the work around this house”.

“You didn’t know that you have to put powder in the washing machine Owen!” Claire exclaimed, nudging his side. “You put the clothes in and when they came out, you wondered why they smelled of stale water!”

He sighed. “That was one time, ok?” He listened to her adorable giggle he’d only ever witnessed when they were on their own. It was his favourite thing, not that he would ever admit it to her. “Alright, well watch me and then… well I guess I’ll let you have a go”. Taking hold of the handle, Claire listened to him countdown from three as she watched him flip the perfectly formed pancake into the air. And of course, the flip was perfect as well. When was what Owen did never not perfect.

She laughed at him cheering, in awe at his ability to still hold her waist and nearly take out the ceiling with their breakfast. “Come on, your turn honey”.

“Owen” She said, a lightly warning tone in her words.

He chuckled, “Sorry honey. Did I call you honey again?”

“I’m not flipping the pancake if you call me that!”

“Ok babe, give it a try then” He smirked.

With a scowl returned to him, Claire shook herself away from Owen’s body and cautiously took hold of the frying pan handle. She felt the weight in her hands and shot him a panicked glance. “How?"

He laughed again, “It’s a pancake Claire, not a baby. Toss it into the air”.

And she did… at least she tried to. In a matter of seconds the pancake went shooting upwards, just missing the ceiling as it decided to plummet downwards. For once, Claire clearly was not in control of her movements, as she helplessly tried to land the pancake back into the pan. But, she missed. She missed and it’s fell straight into the flames of the gas, catching alight. Owen couldn’t help but laugh raucously and Claire instinctively flailed about in panic, reaching for a tea towel only to knock over an entire stand of metal utensils which crashed loudly onto the floor. 

When she finally put the small fire out, she thought it would be smart to pick the frying pan up that had also ended up banging on the tiles. And Owen let out another burst of laughter in response to her shriek of pain when she remembered that the pan was burning hot and she hadn’t even registered to use the handle.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh,” Owen repeated through his chuckling. He reached out to her, taking her hand into his own whilst trying to compose himself. The smile of amusement was not wiped away from his face, however. “Honestly Claire, how! God, what am I going to do with you?”

As she hissed in response to his touch of her burnt fingers, he chucked again. “Stop laughing!”

“Sorry”, he laughed.

“Owen!” She huffed, taking her hand away from his in annoyance. “I told you! I can’t cook!”

Their bickering stopped when a small cough resounded from behind them. Two heads quickly turned to look at the little girl, still clad in her pyjamas and weary eyed, stood behind the breakfast bar.

“Maisie-“

“Hi sweetie!” Claire quickly said, attempt to make their situation look in the least bit normal.

“Why is Claire in the kitchen?” The brunette asked, directed at Owen.The man couldn’t help but laugh at what she decided her first comment to be. “You’re being so loud!” 

Claire kicked away the utensils on the floor, in attempt to hide the mess from the child. “Sorry… sorry we didn’t meant to, I jus-“

“Claire wanted to make pancakes with you this morning Mais, and I was trying to teach her… but you know how Claire is in the kitchen.” He received a smack for that, but it was worth the big grin on their little girl’s face.

“I love pancakes!”

“You do?” Claire asked. Owen could easily see the cautiousness in her behaviour now; he knew whenever she was around Maisie she would be overthinking about how she was acting, whether it was right or wrong. Or whether the girl would appreciate what she was saying, or doing.

Maisie eagerly nodded, arms now perched on one of the stools. “I’ve only had them twice… Iris thought they were ‘too american’ but Grandpa let me on my birthday!”

As she spoke of her Grandpa, Claire watched her face falter slightly. Despite easily understanding she was trying to remain strong, Claire held her arm out to the girl and beckoned her over. And Maisie accepted the hug instantly, rushing over and bowling into the redhead’s frame. After picking up what he could reach from the floor to clear the mess, Owen leant back onto the counter and watching his two girls, a small smile on his face.

Claire held her closely and placed a kiss to the top of the girl’s head. Maisie’s tiny frame felt perfect in her grasp for the few moment she let herself have until she pulled away and leant down to talk to her. “So, how about we get started on your pancakes then?... well, you and Owen can and I’ll watch”.

Maisie quickly shook her head, taking both of Claire’s hands into her own and swinging them from side to side, gently. “Nuh-uh! Make them with me? I’ll help you, it won’t go wrong”.

Claire looked at Owen, out of instinct, in need of guidance and backing. Maisie wanted her? Her specifically? Owen nodded, smiling at her encouragingly. She was too caught up in the little girl’s endless hazel orbs to register that Owen’s heart was indeed also melting along with her own.

“But first, run your finger under the tap. I’m not stupid.” Maisie pronounced, her voice thick with drama.

“How long were you stood round the corner then? Huh, how long little miss?” Owen teased, moving closer to the girls and placing a hand on Maisie’s shoulder; she giggled when he poked her side. He then directed his attention to Claire, “Go on then Mom, you’ve been told to sort your burn out. Mais and me will start up”.

She tried to nod, tried to act normal and move over to the sink but his words hit her like a tonne of brick. Mom. She’d never get over that; how it sounded, how it looked, how it felt. It felt right. And as she turned her back to the two of them who started to fry the butter again, the flutters in her stomach couldn’t suppress the smile she formed to herself, and herself only.

A while later, they were all sat around the table, Maisie insisting on decorating Claire’s pancake with a smiley face of chocolate. The grin on all of their faces were nothing in comparison. When Claire looked to Owen, feeling his hand softly clasped around her own, a perfect fit, their eyes connected. He was so happy that she was happy, and she knew that was what he was trying to tell her. With a reassuring squeeze, he brought her hand to his mouth, lightly kissing it.

Happiness bubbled within her, a drunk and giddy feeling of content. They may have been through a lot, created a lot of problems, and as a result, now carry even more problems with them into their future. But for now, it was okay. They were okay. And Claire knew, as she watched Owen jokingly steal some of Maisie’s strawberries and the two laughing in response, that she would do anything for her little family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you liked it? I love comments but don't make me cry thank u. Feedback will encourage me to write all my angst, hurt/comfort clawen fics I have lined up!


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